


Life in the Fast Lane

by mrsvc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 21:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/79864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsvc/pseuds/mrsvc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: The only demons they can't vanquish are their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life in the Fast Lane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akitron](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=akitron), [sinstralpride](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinstralpride/gifts), [sosobriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sosobriquet).



> If you don't want to write Supernatural fic, you must follow these rules: 1) do not make a Pandora station with "Carry On Wayward Son" as your seed song. 2) Do not listen to "Life in the Fast Lane" by the Eagles for the first time and immediately think of Sam and Dean. 3) Do not be crazy like me.

They were somewhere down Highway 18, deep in the bad part of a town Sam can't even remember the name of. Instead, he's sprawled across the bed, his eyes unfocused and his body humming for something more. Dean was out and Sam hated him for it. Dean always pulls this shit; leaving him locked up in some prostitute Hell hole while he's out scoring. His skin itches a little from the unwashed sheets and he can feel his own grime mixing with that of the room. He thinks about picking the lock (he'd done it before) and walking straight the Hell out of that room when he heard the keys jingle and the scuff of Dean's shoe against the door.

"Hey, yo, Sammy," he calls, his voice already a little heavy with alcohol. Sam stiffened, smelling the whiskey before he could even see the red rings around Dean's eyes.

 

"I'm going," Sam said desperately, knowing he didn't mean a word. "I'm done with this...getting wasted shit." Dean just smirked in his brutal, handsome way. Sam always faltered when he saw that one split second flash of his hard headed brother shining around the booze.

 

"Come on, Sammy," Dean says, putting his hand deep in his jacket pocket, "you know you ain't going no where."

 

"Why the hell not?" Sam bit out, the hazy looking in Dean's eyes fixing him in place.

 

"Because I have this," Deans said with a smile as he produced the dime bag out of his pocket, "and because I can do this." Dean stepped closer, laying the flat of his hand on Sam's chest and dragging it slowly down, at the same time dragging his teeth up Sam's neck. "You love this," Dean said, waving the little bag out in front of Sam's face, the greedy look on his little brother's face wanting both of the things before him at the same time. Sam grabbed the little bag from Dean's hand, dragging together the supplies he would need and biting his lip as he carefully divvied up Dean's conquest, ignoring the way Dean's hands were already working on the buttons of his shirt.

 

Sam was basically the prettiest damn man Dean had ever laid his eyes on and Dean was sure it was going to be the end of him. He loved to rub the pads of his thumbs over the rise of hips and cheeks, grabbing fistful of hair in the haze of sex, drugs, and Rock and Roll. He shifted to the fast lane, pushing the accelerator down and urging the lazy needle of his speedometer to tip over the 90 miles an hour mark. Sam was slumped against the passenger window, his chest expanding slowly with satiated laziness and Dean couldn't help but revel in his pride.

 

The Winchester Brothers were known for blowing through a town, throwing the greatest rager, and leaving it just as quickly, like ghosts just passing through. They knew everyone who had the good stuff, how to mix the good pills with the right booze to give the best effect. They destroyed every psychological monster that haunted the people around them but their own. The seeming oblivion they provided for everyone else never seemed to come for them. They constantly had to live with the sounds of their mother as she died in a fire she set herself, the image of their father as he made his deal with that Devil in the bourbon bottle and drank his life away. Sam had the memories of Dean drunk and stoned, dragging him out of his bed in the middle of the night and throwing him in the backseat of their father's Impala before Social Services could separate them for good. He had the whispers around him of how cool his brother was and how ruthless his brother could be. Sam was just too tired to fight Dean when Dean knew what he wanted. And what Dean wanted was alcohol in his belly, cocaine in his veins and Sam in his bed.

 

Dean liked to weave between cars, leaving barely an inch of space between the bumpers of one car and the next. The rumble of the engine always shot through Sam like lightning, making his stomach clench and roll with the tires. It was something about the fierce look in Dean's eyes, that single minded need to get somewhere that made Sam crawl across the seat, his lips digging hungrily into Dean's skin, leaving a possessive mark on the soft flesh of his neck and shoulder, Sam's hand trailing slowly down Dean's body to thumb open his jeans. Dean just hit the gas, swerving between minivans and semi-trunks, needing more and needing to get there quickly.

 

They'd never settled down once since Sam was 17 and he didn't expect they ever would. It was the fourth time that they had traveled Highway 18 when he turned to look at Dean, too wasted, too high, too stoned to be behind the wheel (and all of those things mean something different to Dean, but none of them mean he can't drive his car) but barreling down the road in the blackest part of night. They just had to get to the next town, the next bar, the next dark alley and unmade bed they could get.

 

"Dean, don't you think we've done it too much?" Sam said but Dean just presses heavier on the pedal. "We've been here, we've done it all now. We haven't learned a thing through all this!"

 

Dean grabbed his baby brother's neck, gripping the shorter hairs there fiercely and turning Sam to look in his eyes, never slowing the car. "Just one more, Sammy," he gritted out, licking his lips and pressing the pads of his fingers in Sam's smooth neck. "I can't bottom out like this."

 

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said, his own hand gripping Dean's wrist and never looking away from his eyes. "Okay."

 

The Impala raced into Hell at 100 mph, both brothers lost to this world long ago anyway. ****

 

**Inspired by The Eagles' [Life in the Fast Lane](http://www.lyricsfreak.com/e/eagles/life+in+the+fast+lane_20044483.html) **

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to [](http://lovelessnoire.livejournal.com/profile)[**lovelessnoire**](http://lovelessnoire.livejournal.com/) for the beta, [](http://akitron.livejournal.com/profile)[**akitron**](http://akitron.livejournal.com/) for loving it, and [](http://sinstralpride.livejournal.com/profile)[**sinstralpride**](http://sinstralpride.livejournal.com/) for letting me stomp on her heart. I love all three of you.


End file.
